Well, that clears that up

 

A trip to the Minnesota State Fair Sunday included a stop at the booth where they'll prick your finger and reveal your blood type. Our girls couldn't resist. Aunt Marcy, Emily and her mom, Melissa, display their respective blood types: Just in case you wanted to know.

Their mom is a big time donor.

Lean on Me. . .

My rooftop patio is a nasty challenge for native plants. Six floors up, it is subject to whipping winds, searing heat, lashing storms, and of course, a perfectly calm, wonderful day or evening. It begs a floral setting. Last year I filled planters with annuals: climbing vines, petunias, vinca, etc, as I’ve always done in sensible ground level gardens. 

Disaster! Disappointment! Death! Even the sweet peas didn’t take.

I wasn’t above just giving up and planting fake stuff and gluing the mess down, but then I discovered the lovely diminutive moss rose, a desert plant, small succulent leaves, short and stalky, tough as a Minnesota winter and continuously in bloom. Portulaca, some call it.

This year, I took the old dirt planters, added some sand to mimic desert soil, and planted a dozen or so seedlings.

The results were spectacular. Multi-colored blooms non-stop, I felt like a real gardener! I watered when I thought of it, and even added some of that blue nitrogen stuff.

But something else was happening. As if an apology for last year’s disaster, tiny vines began to appear among the moss roses. Sure enough, some voluntary Morning Glories were reappearing from last year's failed crop leftovers. 

Today, they burst into a late August bloom, mixing in with their new sturdy, unselfish brothers, who had apparently shielded them sufficiently from the awful elements to allow them now to grow, perhaps to flourish.

I won’t make any philosophical observations about this pragmatic partnership, other than to observe that we’re always stronger together than we are alone. 

I’ll just enjoy this lovely symbiosis on the roof.

Lorlee's First Day

One of the wonders of old age is that somehow, often certain memories sharpen while others fade. Sort of a reshuffling and arranging of limited space. So it was a true gift when my first grade country school classmate, Lorlee Bartos, shared a poem, pulled from her memory, and written down for her poetry group. It is a fine example of memories kept and reused, a shared remembrance that I shall cherish. Thanks Lorlee!

FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL

Excited and dressed

in my first day finery

hair in curls

a masterful  achievement 

for pin straight hair

Greeted  with 

My, we have a big class--

seven first graders

Carol, Darrell, Stanley, Larry,

Marlow, Alan and me

the first wave of Baby Boomers

Let’s all print our names

on this piece of paper

Why look how Stanley has done it

Isn’t that nice

Stanley obviously had better older siblings

he had mastered  

upper and lower case

Despite going on to scholastic glory

I could only print my name

in all capitals

Which I sensed was somehow inferior

__________________________

(In photo above years later, Lorlee and Stanley sat side by side in the back row for the annual school picture. Lorlee graduated high school with top honors, Stanley not so much.)

Las Vegas bound!

Two fun-seekers boarded a Delta flight to sin city this morning, four days of frolic, fun and pleasure await; We actually don't know what awaits them, but they packed supplies that would last at least 30 days, took cash and credit. What could possibly go wrong? Stan's at home, in charge of the litter box, staying calm.

Touching base

 As residents of Southwest Station in Eden Prairie, we often meet up with old friends passing through the transportation hub. Today, my former Shakopee editor, Pat, and his wife, Evon, headed out on the Twins Express to see if we could get another one from the Detroit Tigers. Pat and Evon seemed confident, and set off with a cheery raft of fun-seekers to Target Field. We go back 40 years and he was our “Iron Ranger” claiming Hibbing as his hometown. Nice to touch base today. 

Er, sorry.

Absolutely not, cats can't go

Kathleen and Jordanne are flying to Las Vegas for a couple days of frivolity and escape. Stan intends to stay home with the cat, but Bubbles appears to have other ideas, planting herself squarely onto the bag being filled with Vegas necessities. 

We’ll see who wins out, despite that determined look.

Looking to the future, our girl is growing up

The Minneapolis College of Art is adjacent to the famous MIA

We walked 5.5 miles exploring around the Minneapolis Institute of Art yesterday. 

The idea was to familiarize with the art enclave set in south Minneapolis between I-35 and Eat Street. A certain high school junior thinks the Minneapolis College of Art and Design may be a good choice for future education. 

 So Grandpa and Emily headed out on the Southwest Transit system to explore possibilities. There’s express service from our location, and we got free passes for trying it out, from the nice lady behind the glass at the sparkling new station here. 

 It’s a short walk from the new Lake Street 35W station. A breakfast of chilaques then on to the tour. Our guide, Forrest, ably explained the 3-story complex, a creative warren of studios, works spaces, classrooms, and huge work rooms for whatever physical artistic task desired, from welding to animation to printing arts. 

Stan was impressed by the “hell-box”, a traditional sorting device for returning used type to proper bins. An ancient craft, basic to the understanding of how print technology has evolved. Green screens, animation, sound production, band saws, photo studios, cafeteria, much more that Forrest crammed into the hour long tour. 

Green screen studio

Then a stop at student housing, a far cry from dorm life of the 70s. These home like apartments, adjacent to the school, house the 800 students accepted to this place. 

 Tour over, we walked to the adjacent Minneapolis Institute of Art, adjacent to the Children’s Theatre, and had a bite. A look at a few galleries there, and we were back on the road, hiking 5 blocks to our free ride home in air-conditioned comfort through rush hour traffic.  

Student housing

What will the future bring? We don’t know, but it has many possibilities.

National Night Out

Last night’s National Night Out had all the trappings of a company party, with bachelor Arty, 76, fifth floor, making a desperate play for leasing assistant and host Marissa. Despite appearances, alcohol was not involved. A courtesy visit by the Eden Prairie fire department was rounded out with a big drawing and prizes. A buffet chicken dinner and winner winners! It was a good time meeting the neighbors, including a Ukrainian and a Russian — good friends.